Flawless
by InsanityXJeff
Summary: This story is entirely and whole-heartedly dedicated to John and Sherlock, and what they find out about each other the longer they are together. Johnlock, slash and smut, and plenty of fluff. Please review! Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
1. Chapter 1

AN: I know, this is short. But it's just the prologue. The chapters will vary in size.

Since they moved in together, Sherlock has busied himself with finding out every little thing there is to know about his sweetheart, John. And John is always learning new things about the detective, whether he's trying to or not. You'd think that Sherlock is the only one who enjoys experimenting, but he's not. John loves experiments, as long as they have to do with Sherlock. The doctor loves to let Sherlock experiment on him, even some of the craziest things. Truth is, John will do just about anything for that detective, and Sherlock would be lost without his blogger. This story is full of little stories revolving around John and Sherlock, facts about the two and what they love about each other and what they do together, and more facts from their pasts and what they do to cope with them with each other. Please review, and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock burst through the door to the flat, running up the stairs to greet his love. In his arms he carried shopping bags, and from inside there could be heard a faint metal tinkling. John looked up at him in surprise, and kissed him on the cheek. The detective blushed, and returned the kiss with vigor.

"What's all this, 'lock?"

"Lestrade needs us to do some undercover work, and I just bought our clothing." Sherlock wriggled his toes and excitedly held up the bags for John to see.

"Oh, when do we need to do this?"

"Tomorrow. We need to go to the alley two blocks from here."

"The alley? You mean the one full of crack homeless people, gypsies, and street performers?" John sead warily, sighing.

"Yes!" Sherlock nearly yelled, and he started pulling his clothes out of the bags.

"Alright. What are we?"

"I'm a homeless man, and you're a gypsy, a woman." John pulled his outfit out of the bag and held it up, shaking his head.

"You're making me dress up as a female belly dancer?"

"Oh, don't worry, I got the dress that matches your eyes." Sherlock pulled his genuinely tattered and torn clothes on his body, and waited eagerly for John to do the same.

"Sherlock, I-"

"Oh, please, John? Please?! For me?" He hooked his fingers under the doctor's chin, forcing him to look up at him. John sighed.

"Oh, alright." He pulled the ragged, night blue dress on over his head and wrapped the fabric with tinkling silver coins around his waist. He situated the light blonde curly wig on his head, and turned to Sherlock for approval. The detective's jaw all but dropped to the floor.

"J-John. You look amazing." The ex-soldier looked down at himself, then looked up at Sherlock, confused.

"I'm dressed as a woman, and a God damn belly dancer at that, and you think I look amazing?" He crossed his arms over his chest, sticking his nose in the air, indignant. Sherlock came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his torso, resting his head on John's.

"You always look amazing, John." He kissed the top of his head, and John leaned into his arms, smiling.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. John, you do know that you're going to have to dance, right?" The doctor huffed and rolled his eyes, stepping away from Sherlock.

"Lucky for you, I took dance lessons as a kid." The doctor stuck his arms in the air, twirling a thin scarf that went with his dress in his hands. He danced around the living room and, if Sherlock wasn't mistaken, he was actually enjoying it. The detective's jaw once again dropped off and he moaned at the throbbing erection now present in his pants. With a tinkling of metal, John sat down on the sofa, breathing heavily. His face was slightly red, but Sherlock couldn't tell if that was from exertion or embarrassment. The doctor eyed his erection, and stood up, smiling mischeviously. He strode over to Sherlock, swaying his hips dramatically, but it was working. The detective closed his eyes and repressed a moan, and John wrapped his scarf around his neck, pulling him closer. He crushed their mouths together and Sherlock placed his hands on John's hips. He backed John down onto the sofa, and climbed on top of him. He pushed himself against the doctor, who became hard, as well. He pulled Sherlock close, kissing at his neck and collar bone. After a minute he pulled back, coughing.

"Jesus, you smell like weed. Where did you get these clothes, anyway?"

"You probably don't want to know."

"Yeah, alright." Sherlock sat back, and the doctor sighed. The moment was gone, for the moment. The detective stood up, and John stripped off the dress, putting his normal clothes back on. He took the wig off and was about to put it away, but he looked over at Sherlock, smirking. He stood up on his tip toes to place the curly blonde mop on his boyfriend's head, and giggled hysterically when he saw Sherlock's face.

"John, what are you doing?" He asked, laughing. John playfully touched his finger to the tip of his nose, grinning like a little boy in a candy shop.

"There. Now you're Goldie Lock." Sherlock gave him such an exasperated look that the short man nearly fell in the floor laughing. The detective's face softened into a loving smile. John's laughter was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, and he wanted it to be the last thing he heard in this lifetime. He stopped laughing, though, at Sherlock's voice.

"Well, one thing's for sure."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"You're certainly going to be the prettiest gypsy in the alley." He smiled, and John rolled his eyes.

"And you're going to be the sexiest homeless man within ten blocks." John stood up as tall as he could and kissed Sherlock lightly on the lips. He then stood back down, resting his head under his boyfriend's chin. He placed one hand on Sherlock's shoulder and the other held Sherlock's hand, and the detective placed his other hand on John's waist. They slowly danced around the room together the rest of the evening.

AN: So, you are going to see this at the end of probably every single chapter, but please review! Reviews keep me writing, and questions, comments, thoughts, ideas, and even requests are always welcomed and appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

John and Sherlock's case went surprisingly well, for the most part, if you wanted to know. Sherlock prowled in the shadows, dressed as a blind beggar, getting the evidence he needed for Lestrade. John distracted everyone for Sherlock by doing his dance, and more than once the detective almost got sidetracked himself. But John did get into a rather embarrassing situation once. Another homeless man apparently thought he was "the cat's meow," and tried to get the doctor to come with him. Sherlock stepped in with his cane, and made it clear that the man was to keep to himself. They left with the evidence around late afternoon, going back to the flat to change clothes. It was a nice summer day, so they decided to walk instead of get a cab. The air became cool as the day wore on while they walked to the police station. When they finally left, it was dark out, and the sky was clear but empty of stars. Street lamps dimly illuminated the streets of London. Sherlock and John were almost to their flat when something happened that neither of them will ever forget. They were talking quietly, and John leaned up on his toes to kiss Sherlock on the lips. Right after, they heard the shuffling of feet down a dark alley to their left. They both turned their heads, and four men came up from behind. Three took John and the other punched Sherlock to the ground. He heard what was going on as if from far away. The four men surrounded John, backing him up against the brick wall. His breathing quickened as one of them pulled out an iron bar and another a switch blade.

"Fuck up the little queer!" The tallest of them, clearly the leader, said. The other three slowly inched toward the doctor.

"Sherlock!" He called out desperately, and the men laughed.

"You're pretty boyfriend ain't gonna save you now, queer." At that John squared his shoulders and stood up straight, fists out in front of him. He could defend himself for a while, at least. Sherlock moaned on the ground and opened his eyes. His heart stopped at the scene he saw, and then everything they had said came flooding into his brain. He stood up off the ground and ran toward the group, punching the nearest one upside his head, knocking him out. He did the same to the two holding weapons, and when he got to the leader he tackled him to the ground and repeatedly punched him, even after he was out cold. He attacked the man's organs and arteries after all but destroying his face. It took John forever to tear him away, and when he did he held Sherlock while he cried. He whispered quietly to him until he finally calmed down, and they went home. Sherlock didn't even shower but stripped off his clothes and went straight to bed, which he never does. John crawled into the bed next to him, and kissed him on the cheek. Sherlock was silent and stiff. John gently rubbed his hands over his shoulders, talking to him softly.

"Don't pay attention to them, 'lock. They don't matter."

"They attacked you, John. They could've killed you!" The detective was in hysterics and close to crying again.

"But I'm fine, 'lock. You saved me, and I knew you would."

"Why do people hate us so much, John? Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, and warm tears slid down his face.

"I don't know why, love. But I do know this. People with that much hate inside of them are  
really only hurting themselves. It's a senseless, ignorant hate for something that they know nothing about. We should just ignore them. I learned to when I was young."

Sherlock turned his head to look at John, and his normally bright, happy eyes were filled with pain. Tears streamed down his face. Sherlock was sure he felt his heart break in two. He rolled over so that he was facing John, and he tenderly kissed away all of his lover's tears. When he pulled back to look at him, the doctor smiled, and caressed Sherlock's face with his hand. The detective leaned into the warm touch, closing his eyes. They both layed back down and John rolled over on his other side so that Sherlock could wrap his tall, slender body around his own small one. Sherlock rested his head in the crook between John's shoulder and neck, and wrapped himself around the doctor with his arms holding him tight. He would never let go of John again, and he would always keep him safe.

AN: I know, this chapter was sad. But like I said, and you might get tired of hearing this but I'm always gonna ask, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock and John are probably both the strangest and the best couple there ever was. They could be exactly the opposite from each other, and yet sometimes it seemed as if they shared the same mind. For example, both men have very different points of view on sex. Sherlock, outgoing, good-looking detective Sherlock, would do it almost anywhere and anytime. Once, just once, he had convinced John to do it behind one of their favorite restaraunts. But the short man has a different preference. He would rather make love in a warm bed behind closed doors, in a room with thick walls. Love is something he is not afraid to display publicly, but physically making it is a different story. Sometime's he'll do it in the main room, if the moment's right, and occasionally in the kitchen, and once or twice on the table (long story). But there is one thing both men can agree about on the subject. A simple kiss in the right area can go a long way. Both men just adore kissing each other from head to toe, sometimes with gentle passion or rough desire. The night after John was attacked, Sherlock kissed him all over in places John didn't know could be kissed. He closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the feeling of his lover's cool, silky lips on his skin. He mumbled things like he was half asleep, and Sherlock smiled.

"Sherlock, I can't even-" He sighed as the detective kissed him on his thigh. An obvious area, but still effective.

"'lock, you have no idea-" He moaned and his leg twitched as the clever man kissed the crock between his left thigh and testicle.

"I can't describe-" Sherlock traveled up John's body, leaving a trail of what John called "butterfly kisses" from his ankle to his collar bone. The doctor let out a low, long groan when he hit his favorite area. It's a good thing John wasn't standing, 'cause Lord he was weak in the knees and he wouldn't be able to stand. Sherlock loved using the doctor's favorite area against him. The place just behind his left ear. It left John feeling warm and fuzzy inside, and it was a perfect ending to a perfect evening. Sherlock curled up in a ball against the ex-soldier's back, his breath tickling his neck.

"Sherlock, why did you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." The detective sighed.

"Because of yesterday. They said those things to you, and I wanted to tell you that I love you."

"Oh, 'lock. I know you love me. I mean, I'm not saying I don't want you to kiss me, but I still know. And I love you, too."

"No, you don't understand. They said I wouldn't save you, John. And I need you to know that I will aways keep you safe. I'll never let anyone hurt you, in any way. You are beautiful and I don't want anyone but you. You are flawless and I wouldn't have you any other way. Do you understand?" He sniffed and held John tighter.

"I understand, Sherlock. Thank you. I love you, and I would never change you, either. Not anything." He kissed the back of Sherlock's hand, and he nodded his head. The finality of that nod was like an idea, one that was so close he could reach out and grasp it with his fingers. And reach he did, and he sealed it with a promise of fidelity.

AN: Shaking it up a bit, pretty please with a cherry on top review! Reviews make me happy and keep me writing!


	5. Chapter 5

If you asked him about it, Sherlock would lie to your face. It was something he didn't ever want to talk about again in his life. Talking about it with John was quite enough, thank you very much. His past was his business, and John's. Sherlock wears his coat and scarf 24/7 for two reasons. Because John loves the way it makes him look, and to hide the scars he has on his arms and neck. Those wounds were intentionally self-inflicted, during a particulary dark time of his life. The scars covering his arms and neck are cuts, ranging anywhere in size from five centimeters to five inches. When he was a teenager and a young man, he had cut himself repeatedly. He had just thought that somehow it would help numb the pain, and it became a bad habit. He had actually cut himself not two weeks before he had met John, even though he hadn't done it in years. He was slipping away again, and the good, sweet doctor had saved him. He hid the scars from John as long as he could, but eventually he found out. John had spent that night kissing every single mark Sherlock had on his body, starting their love of it. The detective never wanted to go back to that again.  
John only has two marks on his body. One on his leg where he was shot, and the other is a mark just below his chin. He had cut himself there as a child. It was an accident while he had been playing with the kitchen knives, and he was grounded for a month. Sherlock thought, and still thinks, it hilarious that John was playing with the knives.  
The detective loves to mess around with John, and he does it often. The best part is that even though Sherlock does it all the time, the little doctor still gets scared when he suddenly jumps out from behind a door wearing a clown mask. And the detective will quite literally roll on the floor laughing at John's reaction.  
John hates clowns. No, really. He hates them. When he was four years old, his parents had hired a clown for his birthday party. It turned out that he was a really awful clown, and when John asked him to make a balloon dog, he filled it up too much. The balloon popped, and a piece flew right into John's eye. And if you don't think that hurts, then you're crazy. The poor little boy had a black left eye for two weeks.  
Sherlock hates reading. He loves writing, but he cares nothing for the pathetic works of other people. His only exception is John's blog. When the doctor is at work, he'll borrow his lap top and read everything John wrote the night before. Sometimes the detective will leave comments for him, because he knows John has a notification on his phone every time someone comments on his blog.  
John loves getting messages from Sherlock at work. Whether it's a text, a phone call, a comment on his blog, or sometimes even a letter, his face lights up like the fourth of July. His personal favorite message is the voicemail Sherlock left him that consisted of nothing but the detective whispering into the phone about the periodic table. The doctor listened to it on repeat, and actually became aroused. When he came home that night, he asked Sherlock to do the same thing while they were in bed. That night is at the top of John's list of his favorite nights.

AN: As always, please review! They mean a lot to me!


	6. Chapter 6

John hated wearing it at first, but eventually those belly dancing clothes became a tool to get Sherlock in bed with him. It wasn't even a male outfit, but a female one. And yet there was something about it that just turned the detective on like you wouldn't believe. John uses it very often, even though the tinkling of the metal coins gets on his nerves.  
Now, you're not going to believe this one about our quiet, little doctor. But Sherlock's tool to get him in bed is a riding crop. John didn't even believe it at first, but when Sherlock whipped out that crop one day and used it for a case, he had to leave to deal with a certain problem. Now all the detective needs to do is put on his leather pants (long story) and pull out the crop and John will nearly fall flat on his face trying to scramble out of his chair to get to Sherlock.  
Now, the leather pants. John spent one morning admiring his lover's arse while he was wearing a pair of tight dress pants. Then he started wondering what Sherlock used to dress like, because there was no way he walked around wearing nice clothes as a teenager. He emailed Mycroft about it, and big brother happily sent John a whole file of pictures of the detective as a teen. The good doctor's jaw nearly dropped off when he saw him sporting tight black leather pants, red platform shoes, and a purple vest with fringe, bare chest. Sherlock walked over to see what had him speechless and his face turned scarlet. He quickly explained to John that as a teen he had been briefly fascinated with the culture of rock stars, and decided to try out their wear once. Immediately afterward the doctor went online and ordered a pair of black leather pants for his boyfriend.  
One day while exploring John's lap top, Sherlock came across a file labeled 'Sherlocks Welcome' He thought it was cute that John tried using reverse psychology, after labeling his files 'Sherlocks Stay Out' didn't work. He double clicked and was met by baby photos that John had only kept for his parents. The little toddler had light blonde almost white hair and light baby blue eyes, unlike older John with sandy locks and navy blue irises. Sherlock's personal favorite picture was John three years old, just standing in the front doorway. He was dressed in blue jeans, a white dress shirt, and a grey sweater vest. He had an adorable, crooked toothy smile on his face, which radiated like the sun. The detective emailed it to himself and made it the background and lock screen on his phone.  
John loves the way Sherlock walks. Head high, feet up, and hands behind his back. Sometimes he'll actually walk backwards in front of the detective, asking him to stop him from running into things, so he can watch him while he walks. It's something that never fails to cheer him up when he's feeling down.  
Since the day they met, Sherlock took note of the way John stands and tucked it away in his mind palace. Slowly, the more he watched him, the more he fell in love with his stance. Shoulders squared, head straight, face plain. And his hands stiff at his sides, just like the soldier he is. He actually took a picture of an unsuspecting doctor while he stood like this, and for a while that was the background on his phone. Then he found John's baby pictures and, needless to say, there wasn't any competition.  
If there is one thing on this planet John Hamish Watson loves besides Sherlock Holmes, it is flowers. Yup, you read it right. Flowers. Some people think it's girly, but he doesn't care. If John is pissed off and he won't come off it, give him a vase of daffodils. If you want John to do something for you, give him a basket of sunflowers. If you don't want anything (unlikely) and you just want him to be happy, give him a bouqet of roses. His favorite flowers, though, are delphiniums, particularly the Blue Indulgence. Delphinums are the July birth flower, which happens to be John's birth month. Delphiniums also represent an open heart, and ardent attachment. On his birthday, Sherlock filled the flat with the feathery sky blue feathers for John, and he actually cried. Let's just say that the detective got a very good night.  
Now, you might be really surprised by this one, but our very own William Sherlock Scott Holmes loves butterflies. Mm hm. Butterflies. They are the only insects that he loves and loves to experiment on. Currently, he has a glass case full of his favorite kind, the Western Tailed Blue. Not only does he find their entire culture interesting, but he loves the simple pattern on their wings. Most have light periwinkle blue on top, and beige-grey on the underside with black spots. But, the most interesting one in his case has light tan wings, with streaks of blue coming from the center. It looks as if shards of ice were shooting out of it's body through it's wings. Can you guess what he named it? Well, if you guessed John, then you're wrong. He name it Bartholemew.

AN: I had a lot of fun with thus chapter. Anyway, pretty please with whipped cream and sprinkles review! And if there's anything you want me to write about, or if you have any ideas, please tell me!


End file.
